


Coffee, Codes and Cat Cafes

by arual1407



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fucking fight me on it, Humanstuck, M/M, Yes I'm reviving that old trop
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22333033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arual1407/pseuds/arual1407
Summary: Eridan Ampora, eager to stand on his own legs for the first time, makes the decision to open a coffee shop.Sollux Captor tries to deal with the newly opened coffee shop across the street, it's hipster clientele and it's hot hipster owner.
Relationships: Eridan Ampora/Sollux Captor
Comments: 19
Kudos: 77





	1. Eridan: realize that air fresheners don't cover spooky vibes

**Author's Note:**

> My first foray into planned out and edited fic.  
> Thank you to my amazing beta reader/editor, Demon_Cookie101. If you get the chance, go check out her Amporafam series, it's really, really good.

Standing in the empty space was a bit of a surreal feeling, honestly. It had been a second-hand shop before he bought it, and the smell of mothballs and old ladies still clung to the yellowed wallpaper. But as his pa had said, the place had good bones, a solid foundation and it would just need some elbow grease, blood, sweat and tears, then it would be good. Still, stepping up to the counter with its peeling varnish and old stains, Eridan was hit by a wave of doubt. The whole place looked ready to come apart at the seams, but maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. The peeling wallpaper would just be easier to remove, the counter had a certain charm that he just might keep and the door to the upstairs apartment, squeaking and groaning on its hinges, would just need a good oiling and some paint.

Not that he had any idea how to do any of that, but that was why he was calling in the figurative cavalry.

Just like everything else, the stairs leading upstairs creaked under his weight as he made his way up, trying to not touch the sticky bannister or think about the fact that the previous owner had fucking died in the apartment. Had he been a lesser, or more superstitious, man, he would have been worried about the haunting potential absolutely radiating off of that whole situation. The whole place reeked of negative energy. Or that might just have been the lingering scent of nicotine. As bad as the shop was, the apartment was almost worse, showing the neglect that came with having an elderly hermit as an inhabitant., no upkeep, just peeling paint, disgusting carpet floors, (and he’d never get over the american obsession with wearing shoes inside, it was just unhygienic,) and marks on the walls from furniture and paintings, like ghosts of the previous owner was still there, like the apartment was trying to tell some story. Not that he was superstitious or anything. He was just aware of things going on around him.

Things like the sound of the shop’s front door opening, the bell above it ringing loud and clear, even upstairs. At least that meant he would know if he forgot to lock the door some night and someone decided to step inside.

At least running down the stairs wasn’t much different from doing it at home, even if he was once again reminded that the bannister was disgusting and was rapidly jumping up the ranks of the to-do list. In fact, it might just have taken first priority.

The fact that it was just his pa and Cronus who had arrived was enough to have Eridan let out a small sigh of relief, ready to get to work. When it turned out that Cronus was a master of ripping up carpets, nobody was surprised. It was also strangely therapeutic, tearing down and preparing to rebuild. In some ways, both he and the shop were going to be starting new chapters. Eridan would be on his own for the first time and the shop would soon be filled with coffee craving people with an appreciation for the finer things in life. At least, that was the way it would go if he had anything to say about it.

Come evening he was exhausted, feet dragging on the now bare apartment floor as he gathered up the empty boxes from the chinese take-out they’d ordered. The kitchen was in no state to be used, everything had been taken out and hauled down the stairs so new appliances could be put in, something that left him with just a decimated apartment, a sleeper couch and a shitty car air freshener Cronus had brought from work. 

From the open window the sounds of cars came drifting up along with the sound of faint music from somewhere down the street, so different from the quiet of the suburbs he’d grown up in. In some ways it was another reminder that he was away from home, something that sent a pang of homesickness in to squeeze around his heart. Away from home, away from the scandal, away from nosy neighbors, from everyone who’d known him in high school and college, just away from everything. The prospect of being utterly alone for the first time was sort of terrifying, and without even really thinking about it he somehow ended up calling his dad.

It wasn’t even until his dad answered that he really registered it.

“High Street Butchers, you drop ‘em we chop ‘em.”

“Pa, that’s fuckin’ awful, I can’t believe you’ve actually said that,” Eridan replied, faintly amused at the whole thing. It felt good. Hearing his pa’s jokes, awful as they were, was comforting.

“Well, I cannae just be old and borin’ now, can I?”

“Yes, you absolutely can and you should. Just, please be normal, for once in your fuckin’ life.”   
“Hey now, slow down on the sass, laddie. Did ye need somethin’?”

“Oh, yeah, I was wonderin’ if we could get my wardrobe set up tomorrow? And if so, if you could bring some of my boxes of clothes.” Sure, he’d brought a suitcase along, but it still only had seven or eight shirts, two jackets, six pairs of pants and ten pairs of socks. Not nearly enough to last him the week.

“Of course. By the way, the kitchen appliances should be arrivin’ tomorrow around 10, just so you know.”

“And someone will be installin’ them?”

“If they don’t then I’ve definitely paid too much. Anyway, I have t’ go, we’re just about t’ pull out on the highway, and you should get some rest.”   
“Yeah, I know.” Eridan didn’t want the call to end, he wanted to cling to that bit of familiarity that came with hearing his pa’s voice. “Get home safe, yeah? Love you.”

“Love you too, guppy,” his pa replies, fondness clear in his voice.

And just like that he was alone in his new apartment again, looking out the window to the building across the street. There was light in some of the windows, and for a moment he wondered what sort of people lived there. But really, that didn’t matter, he was never going to speak with the people across the way anyways, unless they were the types to enjoy high end coffee, against all expectations.

Pushing himself away from the window, Eridan headed for the couch, folding it out and making sure everything was settled before he retrieved his laptop, planning to binge Drag Race until well into the night, just to fill the quiet and to drown out the feeling of being alone. If he could just watch some queens be shady at each other for a while and try not to think about all the work still ahead, that would be absolutely lovely. Even if the stench of nicotine still hit him from time to time, briefly reminding him of the smell that used to cling to Cronus. A weird little reminder of home, but one he’d be glad to get rid of some day.

After about four episodes of drag race it hit him that maybe one more check downstairs was a good idea, and so down the stairs he went. Checking the windows and front door was easy enough, and allowed him a moment to look out again, over the street. It was calm, pleasant, the trees along the streets losing their leaves and for a moment he longed for a mug of tea in his hands and a robe around his shoulders.

Instead of doing anything about that he just checked that front door was locked and then made his way back upstairs. There Eridan finally undressed, stretched and let himself collapse on the couch, out like a light within minutes.

The next morning he came to to the sound of his phone buzzing right off of it’s windowsill perch, clattering to the floor. If the screen hadn’t already been cracked to hell and back he would probably have been more worried, but as it was he just ignored it until the alarm stopped buzzing and he could-

Wait. Alarms didn’t just stop. Fuck.

Rolling out of bed was still a chore though, especially with his body reminding him that all physical activity was fuckin’ overrated, and what exactly had caused the back of his thighs to cramp up like that? In spite of his body’s protests, Eridan managed to wriggle to the phone, though, picking it up and groaning loudly when he spotted the three missed calls from his dad and the six or seven texts from Cronus. Without even looking at them he just flopped back down and allowed himself a moment to just lay on the floor and dread the day ahead of him. 

  
It was going to be a long,  _ long _ day.


	2. Sollux: Complain about hipsters

The antique store across the street closing hadn’t really come as a surprise. Sollux knew that the owner had been old and sick, so it was almost to be expected when someone showed up to take down the sign on the front of the building. So of course that ended up being one of the things he brought up to make conversation at work the next day.

“Remember that weird antique shop across from my place?”

“You’ve mentioned it a couple of times. Why?” He didn’t even have to look up to know that Porrim hadn’t even paused wiping down after her last customer. And, well, he probably shouldn’t be making conversation while putting a piercing needle in some guys genitals, but whatever. It was fine, he was confident in his own abilities.

“They took down the sign yesterday. There was a u-haul parked out front this morning so I think there’s someone taking over already. No idea what sort of shop, though.”

“Huh, you’ll have to keep me updated on that. Maybe we’ll end up with competition,” Porrim joked, rustling around a bit. No doubt she was preparing for the next client, something about a big back tattoo as far as he’d heard.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Other than that bit of conversation the day mostly passed in peace and quiet, though. There was the usual bit of dealing with clients, of course. Mostly it just meant explaining to someone three different times why he absolutely would not do lettering tattoos under any circumstances and doing friendship tattoos on a pair of girls who probably weren’t even going to be friends in a couple of months anyway. They just had that air of bitchy about them, which lead to him expecting to see one or both of them just a couple of months down the line for a cover-up. But whatever, that was just another chance for him to earn some more money which meant more opportunities to eat something other than rice or instant ramen.

That evening while he was waiting for his rice to cook, Sollux took a moment to stop at the living room window to get a good look at the now closed shop across the street. The fact that there was a light on in one of the windows upstairs shouldn’t really be that surprising, but somehow it was. It was just a weird thing to think about, that there was someone new living across from the street. All he could really do was hope that they’d bring some sort of neat little shop to the street and not something stupid like a coffee shop or health nut store. Not because he had anything against those kinds of shops, just the kinds of people who tended to frequent those types of shops.

Health shops came with the gym bros and yoga girls or any middle aged rich woman who thought she was the pinnacle of health because she drank a kale smoothie one time.

Coffee shops drew in the hipsters, though, and those were almost worse. Guys with shitty beards and flannel shirts, girls with beanies and those awful watercolor tattoos, both categories yammering on and on about quinoa or chia pudding or indie bands or whatever the fuck. And somehow he got the awful feeling that he’d be seeing a lot more hipsters in the near future. Just a horrible sinking feeling in his gut, mostly.

It took a week for his worst fears were confirmed. A guy came into the tattoo parlor and asked for a watercolor constellation tattoo. When Sollux told him that something that complicated couldn’t be done off the street the guy instead asked for some stupid quote in fancy lettering down his lower arm. It was almost enough to make him pop a blood vessel. In the end he just helped the guy make an appointment with Porrim, seeing as she could actually do the watercolor shit.

When he came home that afternoon he paused for a moment to look across the street. And for just a second there he wanted to scream. It was a coffee shop. A fucking coffee shop. A coffee shop with hipsters clustered around the door like mosquitoes around a lightbulb. The name of it was Obeans and the sign had a wave painted on it. Obeans. Oceans. _Fucking hipsters._

With his day, and future, thoroughly ruined he practically slammed the door open and stomped up the stairs. Anyone seeing him might have accused him of trying to stab the lock on his front door to death, but to him it was a very sensible reaction to living across from a hipster coffee shop with a fucking _ocean pun_ for a name. It was just one of those things which meant he was immediately heading for his laptop as soon as he’d kicked off his shoes at the door.

TA: AA  
TA: iim goiing to fuckiing end iit  
TA: iive had enough of thii2 bull2hiit  
AA: 0h dear  
AA: had an0ther run in with a basic white girl  
TA: no iit2 wor2e  
TA: the antiique 2hop wa2 turned iinto a hiip2ter coffee 2hop  
AA: s0llux  
AA: is that really w0rth ending it 0ver  
TA: ye2  
TA: ii have to look at them every day on my way to work  
TA: ii dont have the mental fortiitude for that 2hiit  
AA: its just s0me hipsters  
AA: i have c0mplete faith in y0u 0u0  
AA: and if y0u refuse t0 have faith in y0urself then ill have t0 c0me sit 0n y0u and remind y0u 0f all the things y0u abs0lutely can handle  
TA: no fuck off  
TA: you have work tomorrow you dont need to driive all the way down here  
TA: ii can handle the hiip2ter2 for a whiile  
AA: see  
AA: i knew y0u had it in y0u  
TA: dont you fuckiing go and have faiith iin me  
AA: y0u cant st0p me!  
TA: iim ju2t a complete ba2ement gobliin  
TA: biitch  
AA: y0ure n0t a basement g0blin!  
AA: if anything y0ure a sec0nd fl00r g0blin  
TA: iim goiing to kiick your a22  
TA: ju2t you waiit and 2ee  
AA: have y0u eaten yet?  
AA: if n0t then get s0mething t0 eat  
AA: y0ur silence tells me y0u havent eaten all day  
AA: h0w can y0u call y0urself a g0blin if y0u havent even eaten dirt t0day  
TA: hey chiill ii got dii2tracted  
TA: 2ome guy ju2t walked out of the fuckiing coffee 2hop weariing what look2 like a whole quiilted carpet  
TA: iit2 2o fuckiing ugly  
AA: _hipsters_ _  
_ TA: hey look at you fiiguriing out formattiing  
TA: good job  
TA: anyway iim makiing food riight now  
AA: good  
AA: i have t0 g0 make sure the kitchen isnt 0n fire  
TA: ah left FF iin charge of cookiing agaiin?  
AA: im an idi0t sandwich  
AA: y0u keep me updated 0n the cute hipsters  
TA: hiip2ter2 arent cute  
AA: 0u0

And just like that Aradia was offline again, leaving him sitting there staring at the greyed out name. It was still weird, being away from her and from family and everything. A little bit lonely, but that was fine. He had no problem at all getting all his social interaction over the internet, not at all, he was totally fine with never seeing anyone outside of work. In fact it was absolutely a relief to not have to deal with a shared apartment and he didn’t at all miss the sounds of other people around him. That sort of shit was exclusively for people who didn’t get exhausted with social interaction and dealing with dumbasses. It was certainly not for people like him.

For people like him it was much more suitable to just be alone. Far less people to be annoyed by and far less people to deal with when things were particularly shitty. So it was fine, really, him being alone was absolutely the best thing to happen.

And what the fuck had Aradia meant by the insinuation that he could possibly find one of the hipsters cute? That idea was just ridiculous.

Still, standing at the window and looking across the street he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell sort of person would open a hipster coffee shop of their own free will. Absolutely the sort of person he would be very happy to never meet or interact with in any way whatsoever. That gut feeling which came up whenever he thought about it was probably just hunger. It’d be fine.


	3. Bake The Stress Away

The day he had to open the coffee shop, Eridan woke up just after dawn with a knot in his stomach and bile in his throat. Sometimes anxiety was just a bitch like that. It didn’t help that there were no new messages on his phone, something that technically wasn’t surprising but was still a bit upsetting.

CA: hey let me knoww wwhen youre about to get here  
CA: i dont havve time to pick you up at the station but im pretty sure cro or pa wwont mind doin it  
CA: lovve you <3

The knot in his stomach didn’t lessen when it popped up that his messages had been read, but that was fine. That was just how things were. So for the time being he shoved aside the thoughts scurrying around in his head and got to getting himself dressed and ready. Big day and all that. Just a shame it came on one of those days where he wanted nothing more than to just get back in bed and sleep the whole day away. It didn’t help that those days had become more common over the last six months or so, but it was fine. Probably just the stress of dropping out of college, buying the shop and getting that all set up. Certainly nothing to do with the whole failing romantic relationship thing because he definitely didn’t have a failing romantic relationship, no matter what Cronus always said.

It was just a bit harder to cling to that line of thought when every message he’d sent over the last month had been left on read.

At least everything was ready downstairs. Mugs and saucers lined up, to-go cups ready, all the coffee was ground, everything was clean. Pristine and perfect. At least that meant he could finish up the last of the pastries without having to worry too much about having to run around and get everything sorted at the last minute. Hopefully. Knowing him and his situation, something would still go wrong, though.

As it turned out, he was absolutely right in his assumption that something would go wrong. The oven broke down halfway through baking the second batch of macarons. That little thing was almost the crap cherry on top of the shit sundae that was the last week or so. Everything had just gone wrong and honestly, everything might as well go even more to shit right at the last second so that he’d have to postpone the opening of his café. It might as well happen that way.

The fact that his phone buzzed right then and there did not help at all, especially not when he got around to actually checking the messages. At that point he did actually yell and kick the oven out of pure frustration. It was all too much. Just too much.

Instead of just canceling the whole opening he threw himself at the dough for some bagels. Pushing it into shape was a good alternative for punching his absent boyfriend across the face. Fucking bastard, running off to the fucking Amazon instead of coming down and being supportive. So what if it was some sort of once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, he should be there for the opening of his fucking boyfriend’s coffee shop instead of running off to the ass end of nowhere Brazil. Fuckin’ good for nothin’ asshole boyfriend.

Still, the show must go on. That was how Eridan ended up googling how to troubleshoot an industrial oven, trying his best to not get himself burned on the still hot outside. Dealing with the cooking part of the whole café thing was rapidly becoming his least favorite thing of the whole mess.

It didn’t help that when Cronus arrived through the backdoor, he immediately started laughing.

“Oh fuck off!” Eridan called from his spot halfway behind the oven. “Actually, no, get your arse over here, you wannabe grease monkey. Fuckin’ piece of shit oven broke, so I’ve wasted a whole batch of macarons.”

“Oh no, a whole batch of fancy cookies wasted, what a horrible thing to happen.” Cronus rolled his eyes as the two brothers swapped places, smug grin still stuck on his face.

“It  _ is _ horrible, you asshole! The grand openin’ is in two hours and I still haven’t even finished the bagels! How the hell am I supposed to open a coffee shop if all I can offer is stale cheese sandwiches and cold cookies?”

“By actually making good coffee, you idiot.”

“I’m not sellin’ coffee, I’m sellin’ an experience!” Sure, maybe he was being a bit overly dramatic, but only idiots would complain about that. Idiots like his brother.

“Chief, that’s maybe the most hipster thing I’ve ever heard out of you, and you’ve said a lot of hipster shit.”

“Oh shut up.” Splashing a bit of water on Cronus is a good distraction from the stress still gnawing at him. “You don’t know anythin’ about any of this anyway, you hooligan.” Eridan threw his hands in the air for the drama of it all, then got himself busy finishing the filling for the apple pies he still needed to bake. At least the pie filling would be able to handle a day or two in the fridge better than the macarons, if Cronus didn’t manage to get the oven working again. And really, anything to keep himself busy, anything to keep him from pulling his hair out was a good thing.

“So, heard anything from loverboy yet?” Cronus asked from his spot next to the oven, obviously doing his own bit of online troubleshooting. In reply Eridan just sighed at first.

“Yeah, he’s not comin’. Apparently he got this once in a lifetime opportunity to go pokin’ at some sort of rainforest bullshit in the ass end of nowhere Brazil. So I guess monkey fondlin’ was more important than actually bein’ here for me.”

“I don’t want to say this, but-”   
“That’s a load of shite.”   
“But I told you so.” Cronus even had the audacity to look the tiniest bit smug, which was absolutely infuriating to Eridan.

“Oh fuck off, you smug prick. He shouldn’t be runnin’ off at every opportunity he gets, it’s almost like he doesn’t want to be around me at all! Every time I try to talk to him there’s always some sort of shit what comes up, like he can’t talk because he’s with a study group, or he’s cataloguin’ dog shit in the woods, or he’s knee deep in a fuckin’ swamp behind a Walmart or whatever the fuck it is. Half the time I think he’s just makin’ shit up to avoid me!” Airing out all his grievances was nice, sure, but it also just brought attention to that feeling of his heart being squeezed which always came up after a conversation with his asshole of a boyfriend. Honestly, couldn’t the guy just take five minutes to actually talk to him?

“Y’know, maybe you should ask about it? Just ask him if he doesn’t want t’ spend time with you or whatever. Communication is the basis of all relationships, yadda yadda, all that nonsense,” Cronus commented, barely even looking away from whatever it was he was doing behind the oven.

“Do you think I haven’t tried? Every time I try to bring up the relationship he suddenly gets very busy with somethin’ completely stupid, like tyin’ his shoes or lookin’ at paint dryin’ or whatever he can come up with at the moment,” Eridan sighed. And sure, it was annoying, but it also always just made him feel like a sort of parasite on his boyfriend, like something that was just getting in the way. Those conversations were also always followed by him being completely childish by refusing to initiate contact for several days, then ending up calling his boyfriend just to reassure himself that he hadn’t actually fallen off the face of the earth or whatever. It was always stressful, to say the least, and never lead to anything positive, but any attempt at actually handling it like an adult always ended with him either being shut down or ignored completely.

The only reason he didn’t stay deep in his own thoughts was because getting distracted while peeling apples turned out to be an awful idea. The peeler slipped and suddenly it felt like half of his thumb was missing, causing a whole lot of cursing as he made a dive for some paper towels and the first aid box. Just another turd of the shitpile that was his whole day.

The only positive part was that at least his oven turned out to not be completely fucked and once his thumb was bandaged and a rubber glove had been located, Cronus actually assisted him with the last of the baking. (Well, he was told to slice the apples, mostly because there always seemed to be some sort of yeast-killing cloud hanging around Cronus, meaning he wasn’t allowed anywhere near the bagels.) Everything was going to be okay, in spite of broken ovens and asshole boyfriends. The apple pies were coming along well, the macarons in the oven were rising, and at exactly 10 AM the doors to Obeans opened as planned, with only slightly less baked goods than originally planned.


	4. Hipsters are fun to bother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day? In _my_ fanfic? It's more likely than you think.

A fucking hipster coffee shop. Right across the street. He should really have known it was coming, what with the fact that the only other coffee shop within walking distance was a Starbucks about 10 minutes away. But still. How dare those hipster bastards invade his nice, calm, peaceful street. Almost overnight they’d come crawling out of the woodworks, a whole legion of flannel clad, scarfed hipsters sporting handlebar mustaches and tattoos stolen off of Pinterest.   
Sure, the increased workload meant that he could actually eat something other than instant ramen, rice with green onions, and lunchables, but still. The times he’d had to listen to some guy talking about his favorite indie band, no doubt so obscure they might as well only play for 10 people at a time, far exceeded what he was able to handle in a  _ month _ , let alone a week. And then there were the hipster girls, with their stupid little ideas and demands that he should make them a single needle tattoo, despite him telling them repeatedly that in ten years or so it would just be a smudge. Nobody listened, as usual.

And it was all because of that fucking coffee shop, drawing them all in like moths to a flame. Fuck the hipster moths.

It was an ordinary day, heading home from work, when he decided that it was time to fuck with the new neighbor across the street. Who knew what could have brought it on, because it certainly wasn’t the faint sound of the live music being played in the cafe. Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to let some college student play Wonderwall on a badly tuned ukulele? Fucking hipsters.

Still, into the cafe he went. Once inside he just stopped, took a deep breath and basked in the smell of coffee before even approaching the counter.

Fuck.

The barista was cute as fuck. Perfectly tousled red, curly hair, freckles all over his face, perfectly plump lips. Sure, the guy radiated hipster, considering that he was wearing a shitty, flouncy scarf, an ugly knitted cardigan and fucking feathered earrings, but still. What sort of cosmic being had given the hipster behind the counter the right to be that fucking cute? The horribly bisexual part of him was just screaming off into the void about the hot people always being the absolute fucking worst.

So that was his reason for spending a solid 30 seconds just staring at the menu, (written on fucking chalkboards hung on the wall behind the counter because fucking hipsters,) before deciding to make his order.

“-uuuuhhh a fucking tall mocha cookie crumble frappuccino with nonfat milk, two shots espresso, chocolate curls, chocolate powder, two pumps vanilla and two pumps white chocolate mocha syrup.” Listing off the most obnoxious order he’d ever heard while working as a barista was absolutely worth it. Mostly because the confused and offended look on the redhead’s face was absolutely adorable.

However, the barista opening his mouth was nowhere near as cute. “You do know we close in like, five minutes, right?”

“ Make me my frappe,” Sollux retaliated, leaning on the edge of the counter. He was ready to take up so much goddamn time, just to piss off the cute barista.

“Why the actual- why would you come into a proper coffee shop and then ask for that chain store garbage? I bet you’ve never even had proper coffee.”

“Make me my frappe then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Fuck, fine. But just so you know, I’m off the clock and thus you’ve lost all right to polite customer service.” The barista almost audibly rolled his eyes and got to doing something.

When the to-go cup was practically slammed on the counter in front of him, he had to take a sip of it and then almost laugh his ass off. The cute barista had just given him hot chocolate with ice in it. But alas, laughing would just encourage that sort of fuckery, so he put on a scowl. “Well what the fuck is this supposed to be?” He asked, holding the cup towards the barista.

“Well I figured that since you want to come in here and act like a spoilt brat I’d give you somethin’ from the kids menu. Now pay up and scoot, junior, you’re keepin

me from actually clearin’ up and closin’,” the barista almost snapped back. So he dropped a single dollar on the counter, took his drink and stepped away from the register just enough to still be bothersome. It was just a waiting game and he was discreetly timing it on the obnoxious old wall clock just next to the front door.

At least just standing around gave him a chance to just look around the whole place. Somehow he could only think that it looked like the bastard child of a nautical museum, a greenhouse and an antique store. None of the chairs or tables matched, there was overly dramatic greenery absolutely everywhere and any decorations exclusively featured ships or the ocean for some reason. And still that one old couch in the corner kept sending out it’s siren song to him, letting him know that it would be the perfect place to curl up after a long day at work. Fucking hipsters and their weird interior design.

It only ended up taking five minutes before the barista was glaring at him hard enough for it to almost burn a hole through his head. Almost. Maybe Karkat was right about him being thick headed because something was saving him from the death glare. And of course he had to take another shot at pissing off the barista.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he said with a wink. The look of downright disgust he got in return was just so fucking funny.

“Why are you still standin’ around here? We closed fuckin’ ten minutes ago.” The barista’s voice was pure venom.

“I’m waiting for you to make me the coffee I ordered.”

“I’m not makin’ you some starbucks  _ bullshit _ , so kindly fuck off, you disgustin’ degenerate.”

“Not until you make me my coffee! I’ll let you know, I’ll have to write a one-star Yelp review for this!”   
“I don’t give a flippin’, solitary damn about Yelp. Nobody who has even a modicum of taste does.”

“Wow, so hipster. Where’s my coffee, you stuck up little shit.” He shook his half-empty cup at the barista for emphasis. Sure, it hadn’t been what he’d ordered and it was getting pretty watered down, but that hadn’t stopped him sipping it.

“What you ordered wasn’t coffee! It’s some shitty coffee milkshake!”

“Where’s my fucking frappe!” For drama he banged the cup on the counter, drawing some strangled noise from the barista. Adorable. How the hell was that adorable.

“Fine! You goddamn asshole, I’ll make you a shitty milkshake tomorrow. Now kindly fuck off so I can wipe down.” The barista had his head in his hands, shoulders shaking just the tiniest bit. Success.

“Great, I’ll be back tomorrow then. Better have the shit to make my frappe then, you contrary, soulless fucker.”

“Oh, a ginger joke, real fuckin’ original. Bat-faced bastard.”

In response to that quip Sollux just rolled his eyes, dropped a dollar in the tip jar and then headed out while making sure to flip off the barista over his shoulder. Somehow that decision to head into the stupid hipster coffee shop might just have been the best to date.

That was also maybe the reason why he pulled his phone out of his pocket the second he stepped outside.

TA: holy 2hiit  
TA: remember that 2hiitty hiip2ter hiive iive told you about?  
TA: the one that opened riight acro22 from where ii liive  
TA: iin the old 2econd hand 2hop  
CG: YEAH WHAT ABOUT IT?  
CG: DID YOU FINALLY GIVE INTO THE GREMLIN IN YOUR MIND THAT SCREAMS AT YOU TO FIND SOMEONE WHO’S SOMEHOW MORE INSUFFERABLE THAN YOU?  
TA: eh that2 one way to word iit  
CG: CAPTOR  
CG: WHAT THE ACTUAL FLYING FUCK DID YOU DO.  
TA: ii triied to order coffee from a 2uper cute barii2ta and he yelled at me  
CG: BULLSHIT.  
TA: okay ii maybe diid the thiing of orderiing the 2hiitty 2tarbuck2 order  
TA: iit wa2 ab2olutely worth iit though  
TA: the dude got 2o pii22ed there wa2 ba2iically 2moke comiing out of hii2 ear2  
CG: MAY I REMIND YOU THAT IT’S IN YOUR BEST INTEREST TO NOT BE A MAJOR ASSBAG TO EVERYONE WITHIN A FIVE MILE RADIUS?  
CG: BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE EVERY TIME I DON’T MENTION THAT FOR FIVE MINUTES YOU GO AND PLUMP THE DEPTHS OF STUPIDITY AS THOUGH YOU’RE TRYING TO DETERMINE WHETHER YOU HAVE FINALLY REACHED THE LIMIT OF HOW MUCH OF A MONUMENTAL DUMBASS YOU COULD POSSIBLY BE.  
CG: WHICH IS A PROBLEM FOR ME BECAUSE THE SECOND YOUR SWIMMING IN THE DUMBASS DEPTHS COMES WITH ACTUAL ~CONSEQUENCES~ YOU COME CRYING TO ME LIKE A FUCKING TODDLER WHO’S JUST BURNED THEIR HANDS ON THE STOVETOP AFTER BEING TOLD FIFTY TIMES TO JUST KEEP THEIR DISGUSTING, SNOT COVERED GRABBERS THE HELL AWAY FROM IT.  
TA: long day at work?  
CG: LIKE YOU WOULDN’T FUCKING BELIEVE. BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT. YOU WERE TALKING ABOUT PISSING ON SOME GUY YOU THINK IS HOT.  
TA: wow thank2 ii diidnt need to be remiinded of your weiird pii22 fetii2h  
CG: DO I HAVE TO REMIND YOU WHO ACTUALLY PISSED HIMSELF DURING INTERCOURSE?  
TA: blocked  
CG: YOUR HOT CRUSH ACROSS THE STREET?  
TA: he2 ju2t  
TA: he2 really cute iin that 2ort of 2tupiid obnoxiiou2 way?  
TA: basiically he2 hot and iim too gay for thii2 2hiit  
TA: he 2aiid hell make me a frappe tomorrow 2o yknow  
CG: PLEASE DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE GOING TO TRY TO FLIRT. YOU CAN’T FUCKING FLIRT  
CG: IF YOU DO IT I’LL PROBABLY END UP IMPLODING FROM THE SECONDHAND EMBARRASSMENT REACHING HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY TO BITCHSLAP ME INTO UNCONSCIOUSNESS  
TA: lol


	5. The Frappucino ordeal

As promised, the weird guy came back the next day, asking for a frappucino, meaning that once again Eridan had to explain that such things would not be served in his shop. It was a whole thing, having to figure out how to politely tell someone to get fucked without potentially upsetting the other customers in the line.

In the end he’d just told the guy to take his mocha and get out of line, he could come back later and get his stupid frappucino if he really wanted it so badly. Not that he actually  _ wanted _ to serve a frappucino or anything, but if he could make it badly enough then hopefully the guy wouldn’t come back asking for it again another day, right? Right, that had to be how it was. If it wasn’t then he was going to demand that the guy never show his face in his shop again, even if it would mean losing a customer. He could handle that, one customer leaving wasn’t going to take down the café overnight. It would be fine, and he definitely wasn’t overthinking everything because his fuckin’ asshole boyfriend still hadn’t responded to his messages demanding to know why the fuck documenting humping monkeys was more important than being with his boyfriend. Everything was fine, just dandy, nothing out of the usual.

Still, maybe he did curse a bit more than strictly necessary when he accidentally spilled scalding coffee all over his hand for no reason. Definitely not because he’d been busy thinking about how to most appropriately call his boyfriend a giant twat without directly calling him a backstabbing, absentee cunt. That particular turn of phrase was incredibly tempting as he excused himself for a moment to take care of his scalded hand, though. So, so tempting.

Things having to go a bit slower after that nasty burn wasn’t really surprising, but it was still annoying as fuck, and it meant that he was horribly behind schedule the whole time. The fact that he was behind schedule then meant that he almost had a meltdown in the back just before closing time, which was absolutely not useful at the moment. He’d just been bringing back some dirty mugs and saucers, and the sight of the dishes piled up in the sink had just done something to his almost fragile state of mind, to the point where he’d almost had a meltdown over having to load the dishwasher. Fuckin’ embarrassin’, honestly. Still, the show must go on, so the mugs and saucers are just left in the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes. Doing dishes would be future Eridan’s problem; present Eridan was busy limping up the stairs to retrieve his blender. If the asshole across the street wants a fucking coffee milkshake, then he’ll get his fucking coffee milkshake. Who knows, it might even end up being worth adding to the roster of drinks. Maybe.

Blender in hand, Eridan made his way back down the stairs and only scowled a little when he spotted the bastard from across the street leaning on the edge of the counter, his fingers drumming on the wood. How dare he look that relaxed? And  _ how fuckin’  _ **_dare_ ** _ he be so goddamn handsome? _ Shit should be illegal, as far as Eridan was concerned.

Still, he’d made a promise, and so he practically slammed the blender down on his work surface, only regretting slightly when doing that jolted his burned hand.

“Glad to see you finally decided to show some customer service. Customer’s always right, don’t you know that?” The guy’s voice was practically dripping with smugness. It was almost enough to make Eridan contemplate just kicking the guy out.

“I’d rather stick my hand in a garbage disposal than show  _ you _ any sort of customer service, you prick,” he snapped back, only fumbling a little with preparing espresso for the abomination he was about to create.

“Looks like you already did, my guy. The fuck happened? Got so distracted dreaming about me you stuck your hand in the coffee?”

“First of all, fuckin’ rude of you t’ assume I’m in any way interested in someone like you. Second of all, none of ya fuckin’ business. Third of all, you’re on real thin ice if you want this goddamn abomination. I’m this close to just kickin’ you out so I can actually do things what need doin’ instead of standin’ around and probably catchin’ whatever the fuck happened to your face.”

“Wow, and you called  _ me _ rude.” Honestly, the guy didn’t seem too bothered at all. In fact he just put his head in his hands and rolled his eyes. “Besides, kinda difficult to catch acne. I bet the thought of it absolutely has you shaking in your Prada boots, though. I bet you have a 25 step korean beauty routine or whatever the fuck all the rage is.”

At least the guy yapping on about whatever gave Eridan the time he needed to finish off measuring out the grounds and getting the espresso started. “There’s no such thing as a 25 step skin care routine. You look like your face has never even seen a hint of soap. Fuckin’ disgustin’.”

“Wow, real creative, you get the insult of the year prize. What next, wanna make fun of my glasses? The fact that I’m Korean? Come on, white boy, I’ve heard it all.”

“Oh shut up, you want this stupid drink, right? Because if you don’t then you can keep runnin’ your mouth and I can just kick you out of here. That’s still an option.” Technically they’d passed the point of that being an option the second he started brewing the espresso and adding ice and milk into the blender.

“I mean, are you just going to let that stuff go to waste then?” The guys voice was still dripping with smugness, it was absolutely infuriating. Maybe that was the reason why there was some sort of strange catharsis in listening to the blender screaming in protest at being used for blending ice. It would be fine, he could always just get a new one if the current one decided that making a frappucino was enough reason to finally commit ritual suicide. Honestly, he wouldn’t even blame it. The poor blender had seen more than enough shit already.

And at least the sound of the poor machine screaming drowned out whatever the lanky bastard at the counter was trying to say. Eridan could  _ see _ him trying to say something or other over the noise, meaning that while making full eye contact he turned up the power just a bit more. For some stupid reason that just seemed to make the guy laugh or whatever? It certainly looked like he was laughing.

After about a minute he had to actually stop the blender, just to keep it from overheating. The brown sludge going into the to-go cup was just a little nasty looking, but that was fine, he wasn’t the one who was going to be drinking it. “Want me to write your name on it as well?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise when the guy just shrugged. “Sure, if you’re really that desperate to know. Sollux.”

The flat stare he was sending the guy was maybe not polite, but he was too far off the clock for polite. “If you wanted me to write some made-up bullshit you could have just told me.” So of course he wrote “Cunt” on the cup before handing it over. “There, have fun with whatever the fuck that nasty stuff is.”

“No, I’m serious, my name is actually- y’know what, whatever.” The guy rolled his eyes, took a long sip and then just looked at Eridan. “Uh, this is awkward, but this is actually decent.”

“You’re shittin’ me.”

“Absolutely not, it tastes like iced coffee except actually good.”

“This is literally the worst day of my life,” Eridan groaned, burying his head in his hands. “You’re not just takin’ the piss, are you?”

“I’m not! Here, try it if you want.” And just like that, the cup of brown sludge was practically thrust into his face.

“Uh, no thanks. I’ll take your word for it.”

“Oh come on, I don’t have anything contagious or anything.” The guy rolled his eyes, but at least got the cup out of Eridan’s face.

“I’ll take your word for it. You got your coffee shake, now can you fuck off? I actually need to shut down for the night.”

“Whatever. Have a good night, you dick. I’ll be back tomorrow for another one of these.” This time the cup was at least just shaken at him before the guy finally disappeared out the door.

Honestly, how the fuck was that even a thing? It should not be happening, the drink was supposed to be nasty enough to chase the guy off, but apparently it was just a decent drink? Shit should be illegal as far as Eridan was concerned. It should be illegal and outlawed and a crime of the worst caliber, the whole chain of events leading up to where he was standing should just never have happened.

At least now that he was alone again he got the time to have his small meltdown over the fucking dishes in peace and quiet. It was fine. Everything was just fine. He could handle it, especially when he checked his phone again and found some fucking passive aggressive shit filling up his messages. Something about if it was that important, then his boyfriend would just dump his life's dream and come back to stand around making coffee for the rest of his life. The whole thing definitely didn’t devolve into a whole argument. It definitely didn’t end up with Eridan flopping into bed while weeping slightly. The tears on his pillow was definitely just a coincidence.


	6. The Boyfriend Incident

After the frappucino incident, Sollux ended up with a couple of days that were just absolutely awful. Just three days where apparently his weird combination of mental fuckery decided to gang up on him like he owed them all money. A pain in the ass, but something he really honestly should have been used to at that point. At least adapting to it was relatively easy; he just texted Porrim that the mental bullshit was coming for his money and she agreed to reschedule things he had planned for that day. Sure, it still felt fucking awful, but at least she was sweet in that way, giving him time to deal with all the stuff banging around in his skull.

On the fourth day, though, it didn’t feel like he was weighed down from the second he woke up. It didn’t feel like there were 50 lb weights tied to every part of his body when he got himself up out of bed, and the thought of getting breakfast was only mildly exhausting and not enough to give him a full blown meltdown right on the spot.

Still too much to deal with, though, so instead of getting breakfast he just got himself dressed and out the door. Maybe he should have worn more than a hoodie, but whatever, it was fine for the short trek across the street and to the coffee shop across the street. Sure, it was still a disgusting little hipster hive, but the owner was cute and they’d waved to each other across the street once or twice over the last three days, so he sort of wanted to check in on the guy and see how he was doing. Dealing with such high concentrations of hipsterism couldn’t be healthy, not even for a hipster.

Later he was going to blame the whole “not checking the open/closed sign” thing on the fact that he was still mentally exhausted. Later he was going to say that he’d just come out to have a coffee and he was honestly feeling so attacked. But right then and there he just walked on in without checking, meaning that he accidentally walked in on two people yelling at each other.

One of the people yelling was the cute barista, the guy currently looking absolutely enraged; his face was flushed, his hair was wild and he was gesticulating wildly while yelling at another guy. The other guy was slightly shorter than the cute barista, built like a brick shithouse and seemed like he’d just stumbled out of a Steve Irwin lookalike contest and into a green parka.

“-and you couldn’t even be arsed to at least give me a fuckin’ call and tell me what you were goin’ to be doin’, so I’m left here just worryin’ my ass off, wonderin’ if you finally decided to run off and have some illicit romance with some Amazonian or whatever the fuck!”

“The reason I didn’t call is because I knew you’d get like this! You’re so paranoid I can barely even talk to my friends without you asking passive aggressively if I’ve decided to have a bang with them yet!”

“Maybe it would have helped if you hadn’t fuckin’ cheated on me once with Strider already!”

“We were on a break, you dolt!”

“We were  _ not! _ You are just a cheatin’, lyin’ scumbag who’ll do anythin’ to get his dick wet!”

“You’re not doing anything to stop it! I can barely even ask for sex without you demanding to know the names of everyone I’ve seen that week!”

“ _ You fuckin’ cheated on me behind the bleachers _ and you just expect me to forgive and forget?! What the fuck do you want me to think when you run off without a fuckin’ word when you know I’m goin’ to be stressed out of my fuckin’ mind here?! And then the whole bullshit Brazil story!”

“You demanded that I drop the opportunity of a lifetime so I can come with you here and just serve coffee for the rest of my life, is that it? If you didn’t want me happy you could just have said so!”

“What I  _ want _ is a little bit of affection! But that obviously doesn’t mean shit to you-”

At that point it finally just became too must to listen to, meaning that Sollux discreetly stepped out of the coffee shop again. Maybe a walk down to the park and a stop at a 7-11 would be a better way to get some coffee and breakfast. Sure, the coffee would be kind of shit, but it was better than listening to whatever the hell was going on back at Obeans at the moment.

Still, after a sub-par cup of coffee and a less than exciting sandwich, he ended up looping back to Obeans, just to check on the barista again. Except this time he did actually check what was going on in the store before heading inside, just in case the argument was still going on.

With no sound or sight of any fighting, though, he decided to risk it and thus headed inside again. This time it was quiet, except for the bell above the door, which was followed by the sound of the cute barista calling out from somewhere towards the seating area, “Read the fuckin’ sign, we’re closed!” The poor guy was sounding just a little like he’d been crying, which was honestly just a little sad. So of course Sollux decided to follow the sound of sniffling until he found the barista, curled up in an armchair, half hidden in that ugly, quilty-looking cardigan and looking like he’d really been through the wringer.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked while sort of crouching down next to the chair, just looking the guy over. His face was still flushed, but more around the eyes and nose, and he was definitely still crying.

“Yeah, just fuckin’ peachy,” the guy snapped back, using the edge of one of his cardigan sleeves to wipe at his eyes. “The fuck do you want? We’re closed.”

“I could tell by the sign. Uh.. I heard some of the arguing before and just wanted to check if you were okay? It seemed like a lot.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, judging by how the guys face screwed up just a little and his breathing hitched for just a second. “Yeah, no, that was just… It was just some shit, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’re fine. Want me to make you something to drink? I mean, I haven’t done any barista work in a couple of years, but I think I can still figure out how to use an espresso machine,” he offered quietly. And when the barista’s expression sort of softened and his shoulders dropped, something in Sollux’s chest just gave a quiet little squeeze. That whole thing was definitely not the start of a tiny crush and anything insinuating that was something he’d need to beat back into a corner later.

“You don’t have to.” It was almost sad, how soft the guys voice had just gotten, how he was still just a bit of a sniffling mess.

“I want to, though. What’s the order and what name should I write on the cup?”

“I- fine, fuck it.. Just earl grey, two cubes of sugar.. And my name’s Eridan. Yes, for real.”

“Okay, one earl grey with two sugars coming up for Eric,” Sollux teased gently as he got up and headed for the front of the shop, ignoring the outraged cries from Eridan.

At least the setup behind the counter was relatively easy to figure out, even if it took him a moment to actually figure out where the tea was stashed. And just as a joke, he wrote “Eridan” on a napkin, which was then placed on the saucer and under the cup. It felt a bit weird, being back behind a counter with all sort of coffee making equipment, but at least it was over soon enough and he could bring the cup down to Eridan.

“Here you go, one earl grey with two sugars for Eric.” He was still just teasing as he handed over the cup, finally sitting himself down across from Eridan and ignoring the glare he was receiving. “So, I’m guessing that was your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend at this point,” Eridan replied quietly, the sound almost disappearing into his tea. “Said he couldn’t handle the drama and paranoia and whatever, despite the fact that he’s the one who’s been runnin’ around and causin’ all of that drama and paranoia by oglin’ every man and woman he comes across.”

“Oof, that’s rough, buddy. At least you’re out of a shitty relationship it sounds like?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Eridan sighed into his tea, finally putting the cup down. “Just gonna be pretty lonely, I guess. I mean, I don’t know anyone in town.” Someone more poetic might have said that sadness seemed to hang itself on Eridan like a lead cloak. Sollux, though, would just say that he looked downright depressed.

“Well, I mean, you kinda know me?” Sollux offered, pulling a slow shrug at the slightly puzzled look he got from Eridan. “That has to count for  _ something. _ ”

“I don’t even know your name, I wouldn’t count that as knowin’ someone.”

“I literally told you my name three days ago.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way your name is actually Sollux. That’s bullshit.”

“No bullshit, that’s actually my name. It’s not weirder than Eridan, come on.”

“Fair. Still, your name is still obviously weirder.”

In response to that Sollux just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. If you decide you want to hang out or whatever you can just come over, play some Fortnite, watch some movies, or whatever. Or you can hit me up on Pesterchum, if you use that.”

“Oh, yeah, I do. What’s your handle?”

“Twinarmageddons. You?”

“Caligulasaquarium.”

“Nice.” He almost managed to hide a small smile as he added the new handle to his list of contacts, smile growing just a little when it lit up purple, showing that he’d been added to Eridan’s list of contacts as well. That ugly little chest squeeze reared it’s head again as he thought about the fact that he could just text Eridan whenever he wanted. “Nice.”

Just before putting his phone away, he caught sight of the time at the top of his screen. “Oh, shit, I should probably get going, I’ve got a work shift in 20 minutes.” Honestly, the fact that he could get just half a day of work was enough that he’d promised himself that he’d buy Porrim some flowers someday soon.

“Right, of course,” Eridan replied quietly, sort of straightening himself out a little while Sollux got to his feet. “Thanks. For checkin’ in on me, I mean.”

“Hey, no problem. And I really do have to scoot, but I’ll be in for a frappe again tomorrow.” This time he made no attempt to hide the grin on his face as he made his escape, only cackling a little at the vague sounds of outrage from Eridan as he hurried out of the shop and down the street.


End file.
